


Crossroads

by FloraTheWriter



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Aged up characters, Alternate Universe, Bittersweet Ending, Breakups, Class Differences, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marriage, Memories, Moral Dilemmas, Past Relationships, Romance, seungjin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloraTheWriter/pseuds/FloraTheWriter
Summary: When Hyunjin crosses paths with an old flame, a train ride becomes a rollercoaster of memory-induced emotion and temptation.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53
Collections: EQUINOX





	Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt 12 for Equinox Seungjin Fic Fest]

There is something endearing as well as alarming about seeing a familiar face in a crowd of strangers. The familiar shape of his jaw, his sharp, tapering eyes, the curve of his lips which part in surprise as he too, sets sight on a familiar face.

Hyunjin knows that a polite greeting will be appropriate. After all, it’s been eighteen years since last they spoke and it will be a lie if Hyunjin says that he didn’t sometimes think of the man standing three feet away from him.

Of course, they were both just boys back then. Spring chickens fresh out of high school, set on making their mark on the world. They’d felt invincible, as if they never needed a plan because  _ surely _ everything would work out anyway? Even when they were sneaking around the university campus, meeting in hideaways known only to them, indulging each other in tentative touches and honeyed kisses, hands intertwined as together they took their first steps from boyhood into manhood. 

“Hi,” Seungmin says it first.

He grips a shiny, brown leather briefcase with one hand and a red ticket with the other hand. Several large rolled up sheets of paper secured with elastic bands are tucked beneath his arms. But what immediately catches Hyunjin’s eye is the gold wedding band on his finger.

Hyunjin is so stunned that it takes an embarrassing five seconds for him to reply with, “Hi.”

The train has begun to slowly chug along the tracks, and only a few passengers still loiter in the narrow passageway between compartments. Both Hyunjin and Seungmin see the attendant striding towards them at the same time, a questioning look on her face.

“I should get going,” Hyunjin says quickly, not wanting to be told off for hogging the cramped passageway. 

Seungmin nods in understanding and gestures to the compartment just behind him. “I’m in here,” he says in explanation. “If you want to um… I mean, it’s a private compartment so there’s more space.”

Hyunjin sees Seungmin’s eyes flicker down to the crumpled blue ticket in his hand. Unlike Seungmin, he’s sharing a compartment with three others. He chews on his lip in deliberation and glances over Seungmin’s shoulder and into the compartment. There’s more than enough room for both of them, but if Seungmin is only asking out of politeness, perhaps it’s one of those offers where he’s expected to decline. 

But Seungmin emphasises his offer with, “Please, come in. I’d love to catch up on things. And I have all this space in here…”

“I guess you do,” Hyunjin admits with a sheepish smile, lugging his duffle bag over his shoulder and following Seungmin into his compartment. But his willingness to join Seungmin has less to do with the available space and more to do with his overpowering need to spend time with the man.

The door slides shut behind them, and Hyunjin begins to fiddle with his own wedding band.

For the first hour, they talk about the things that don’t matter – about Hyunjin’s job as a freelance journalist, about Seungmin’s job as an architect, about the peacefulness in the countryside as opposed to the respective cities where they reside, about how they’d both worked in the countryside for the past two days but hadn’t known the other was there, about how they’d coincidentally ended up on the same train.

What they don’t mention, are the flecks of grey streaking through their dark hair, a sign of the inevitable process of ageing, a sign of how long it’s been since their last goodbye. Hyunjin pretends that he doesn’t see the picture of a man and two smiling little girls that light up Seungmin’s phone when he unlocks it. And Hyunjin is glad when Seungmin, in turn, pretends not to hear Hyunjin’s two-minute phone call and the hushed “I love you too” at the end of it.

Hyunjin feels incredibly self-conscious, hyperaware of the sound of his chewing, nibbling on his bagel instead of taking large chunks out of it as he usually would. He tries to focus on the nature magazine he’d coaxed the station store clerk to give him at a discount, but his eyes keep flicking over the glossy pages to observe the way Seungmin sits hunched over his newspaper. 

Eventually, tired of pretending to read his magazine, Hyunjin simply sits back, his hands clasped around his third steaming plastic cup of coffee. He takes the opportunity to do a quick study of the man opposite him. Seungmin has donned a pair of blue-rimmed spectacles, his eyes narrowed in concentration as they scan the back page of the newspaper. His hair is cut into neat layers and brushed back, prim and proper, because some things never change. 

Still, Hyunjin can’t help but notice the chocolate brown Burberry coat strewn across Seungmin’s seat. Without touching it, he can tell that the coat will feel soft and plush beneath his fingers. It’s a world away from the scruffy navy coat Seungmin wore back in college, not by choice but because it was all he had. Back then, Seungmin’s sneakers were so worn that he used to joke that it was as though he wasn’t wearing anything on his feet at all. One time, after a long walk to their dorm, he’d declared that one day when he would be rich enough, he’d own a pair of sneakers for every day of the week.

Hyunjin smiles at the pair of polished black boots on Seungmin’s feet. They aren’t sneakers but Hyunjin has no doubt that Seungmin can definitely afford a pair of sneakers for every day of the week; he just seems too sophisticated for that now.

Hyunjin feels somewhat childish, dressed in jeans and a Marvel t-shirt. He knows most men his age should be dressed more professionally but he prefers practicality. He hadn’t wanted to dress in a business suit only to go running over hillocks in the countryside, filming sheep farmers and their herds. But now he kind of wishes that he did. 

A voice booms over a loudspeaker, informing the passengers that the train will arrive at the next stop on time. He knows that he’ll have to get off the train at the next stop, and wants to have a more substantial conversation with Seungmin before he does, but he doesn’t know how to navigate this new territory. What do you talk to your ex-boyfriend about? Do you reminisce? Do you talk about life as it is now? Do you talk about what you hope the future holds? Somehow, it all feels inappropriate. The Hyunjin who dated Seungmin eighteen years ago would have no problem with inappropriate, but he’s all grown up now. They both are.

His lips form a wistful smile, and Seungmin chooses that exact moment to look up. Both men flush at the eye contact, their cheeks turning pink, and Hyunjin feels like a school boy now more than ever. He becomes vaguely aware of the slow, languid churn of his blood, the heady excitement, the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. 

“You look like you’ve done well for yourself,” he says, to save himself from looking like a creep. 

But this statement only causes the colour in Seungmin’s cheeks to deepen. “I – I guess,” he lifts his shoulders. “I mean, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” 

Hyunjin can only wonder what ‘it’ refers to; money perhaps, or maybe his career, or his family. Whatever it is, it’s none of Hyunjin’s business. He chides himself for making things awkward, and straightens in his seat, afraid that Seungmin might think he’s begrudging him everything he’s worked for, so he says, “I’m really happy for you, Seungmin. You have everything you’ve ever wanted. And you deserve all of it.” It’s the truth; he feels neither bitterness nor envy. Hyunjin may not be able to partake in Seungmin’s success, but at the very beginning when success was just a dream, seemingly as unattainable as the stars in the night’s sky, Hyunjin had been there for him; it’s this thought alone that makes Hyunjin’s heart swell with pride for the man sitting opposite him. 

“Everything I’ve ever wanted…” Seungmin says the words in a whisper, and for a second, Hyunjin allows himself to imagine that Seungmin is thinking of what they had, of what they lost, of what they gave up. And whether it was all worth it.

And now Hyunjin is thinking of it too. He thinks of it often enough that it doesn’t take much to summon the memories of their shared past. They’d been traveling on the same path until they realized that their destinations were different. They’d parted ways amicably and neither of them had borne any animosity towards the other. But sometimes Hyunjin wishes that it had been a bad breakup; perhaps it would have been easier to move on. 

“A while ago, a few years after graduation I thought of looking you up,” Seungmin says matter-of-factly, removing his spectacles and folding his newspaper. He screws up his face, making his distaste clear, “On Facebook, actually.”

Hyunjin has to press his lips together to stifle a laugh. Back in their day, social media had been almost non-existent, and Seungmin had always maintained that letter-writing would never go out of fashion. Oh well, as much as one wants to hold onto habits, sometimes it’s just not possible. 

“But I…” Seungmin hesitates, his eyes downcast, fingers fiddling with the buttons on his coat, “I figured it’d be selfish of me to disrupt whatever you had going. You’d started a new life in a new city and I didn’t want to just barge in, but I did… I did look you up.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen at this admission, and he begins to feel a strange kind of gratification that Seungmin hadn’t reached out to him for the same reason he hadn’t reached out to Seungmin; they’d stayed away from each other because they’d been thinking of each other, because they’d each wanted the best for the other. 

And Hyunjin doesn’t regret it. He has no doubt that Seungmin is a happy man. A husband, kids, the job he’s always wanted. And Hyunjin can’t deny that he too is happy and fulfilled. Sure, he’d always dreamed of being a news anchor with a large townhouse and fancy clothes and cars, and not some small time documentary-maker who sometimes writes articles for the local newspaper; Hyunjin’s career had never really taken off. But what he has now – a quaint apartment with a great husband and loveable little dog, is more than enough for him.

So no, there are no regrets. Or maybe, there is. Just one.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin says, giving Seungmin a veiled glance, “for not seeing you off, for not saying goodbye.” Seungmin catches his eye, and for a moment he imagines that their last summer together plays out before them like an old movie reel. 

They’d both just graduated and had spent the summer together in a guesthouse up in the mountains, away from prying eyes. The entire summer, they’d known it would be their last together. Hyunjin was moving away to another city, eager to begin his internship at a popular news channel. Seungmin was setting off on his own adventure, wanting to explore the world before he settled into a career in architecture. 

Hyunjin remembered it clearly – buying Seungmin’s train ticket for him and helping him pack, the way they’d made love the night before Seungmin left – their last night together, the bottles of wine they’d emptied to numb the pain of separation, the glare of the sun on his eyelids when he woke to an empty space beside him, an empty house, and the blooming ache in his chest when he realized that he’d missed the opportunity to say goodbye. 

The corner of Seungmin’s mouth quirks up and he shakes his head, “There’s no need to shoulder all the blame. You know I could’ve woken you before I left. I just –” his voice cracks and he brings his hands up to cover his face. 

Hyunjin immediately rises to his feet and slides onto the seat beside Seungmin. “Hey, it’s okay,” he reassures him in a soothing voice, a hand pressed against the small of his back. 

Seungmin lowers his hands, and slowly turns his head to look at Hyunjin. “I just didn’t want to say goodbye to you,” he admits, his voice just above a whisper. “But I regret it. I really do. I’d give anything to go back and have one last goodbye. One last kiss.”

It’s those last three words that draw Hyunjin’s attention to their proximity. He’s suddenly aware of every miniscule detail of the man’s clean-shaven face, the details he already knew were there, the features he can draw with his eyes closed. Seungmin reaches around, pulling Hyunjin’s hand away from his back, and keeping that hand clasped in his own. His thumb strokes slowly over Hyunjin’s knuckles, his eyes drifting down to Hyunjin’s lips.

Hyunjin becomes hyperaware of the day-old stubble he knows Seungmin sees along his jaw, of the acne scars he no longer hides beneath makeup, of that scar on his neck from that silly skiing accident two years ago. An embarrassed flush creeps up his neck, and his cheeks begin to burn, even more so when Seungmin’s fingers thread through the mop of untidy hair that curls just below Hyunjin’s collar. 

Seungmin doesn’t tease him about it like he would have years ago, he doesn’t even comment on any of it. Instead, when his lips are an inch from Hyunjin’s, he softly says, “I didn’t know how much I needed this until now. This…” 

_ This. This one last kiss. _

Hyunjin doesn’t think. If he does, even for an instant, he’ll become aware of all the vows he’s so close to breaking, maybe breaking already. And he wants this, wants Seungmin’s lips on his, wants to feel them, taste them again, have them just one last time. The kiss hovers there, a coffee-scented breath away. And when Hyunjin closes his eyes he begins to remember.

His last kiss with Seungmin still lingers on his lips, a skin-to-skin memory that taunts him now. Lips, teeth, tongue. He recalls that Seungmin’s mouth is soft, more persuasive and testing rather than possessive, eager but not hasty, lips indulging Hyunjin’s with soft nudges, tongue drawing him in, teeth nibbling.

Hyunjin presses against him now, that tough angular body beginning to vibrate. He winds his arms around Seungmin’s neck and hears the hum of passion sounding in Seungmin’s throat. Heat gathers like a fireball in his lungs even before Seungmin’s clever hands begin to roam over his body. Those hands rove over the denim covering Hyunjin’s hips, fingertips grazing over the hem of his t-shirt. 

But a raucous, metallic screech that cuts through the air, forces them apart, and Hyunjin’s heart begins to thunder against his chest, his gut twisting like an internal reprimand for what he’d been about to do. For a moment, he feels disgusted with himself, and then he feels pure relief that it’s his stop. 

He averts his eyes from the equally revolted expression on Seungmin’s face and reaches for his duffle, hugging it to his chest as he heads for the compartment door. His steps feel heavy, and there’s something burrowing inside his chest, compelling him to turn around. It takes every bit of strength he can muster to slide the door open.

“Hyunjin.”

His eyelids shut for a second, and he takes a deep breath before opening them. When he turns his head to the side, he sees Seungmin still standing in the periphery of his vision. “Yes?”

“Goodbye.”

Hyunjin steps out into the passageway, turning fully to face him, “Goodbye, Seungmin.” 

And when he slides the door shut, the door on his past closes once more.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are much appreciated 💕💕💕  
> For fic updates/spoilers follow me on IG: florathewriter   
> To see me screaming about my faves follow me on twt: flora_stays   
> For questions/anonymous comments:  
> CuriousCat


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